The Iceman
by AspiringCatLady
Summary: Mycroft Holmes. They called him the Iceman. He didn't care about anyone. In his eyes, caring was not an advantage. It was said that he had no heart, only a chest full of ice. However, when he met her…that ice slowly began to melt.


The Iceman

Mycroft Holmes. They called him the _Iceman. _He didn't care about anyone. In his eyes, caring was not an advantage. It was said that he had no heart, only a chest full of ice. However, when he met _her_…that ice, slowly began to melt.

…

They met in a pastry shop. Mycroft left work for lunch, and snuck to the sweets shop. Yes, _technically _he was on a diet, but what harm could one slice of pie do?

Mycroft waited anxiously in line for ten minutes. Finally, he reached the cash register and bought cherry pie. He turned to the small tables along the walls. He singled one out and walked towards it, but before he reached it, a woman came plowing into him. The pie smashed between their two chests, and then fell to the ground in a heap.

"I-I'm so sorry!" the woman apologized profusely. Her long brown hair framed her embarrassed face. "This is my fault; I wasn't watching where I walked!"

"It's quite alright," Mycroft said with a fake charming tone. He added sarcastically, "Accidents happen."

The woman's blush deepened. "I am very sorry! Let me buy you another, okay?" she offered.

"No, I've got to get back to work," he sighed. "But I have to go home and change jackets first," Mycroft said rudely.

"Well, okay. I'm terribly sorry," she apologized, looking to be on the verge of tears. Mycroft nodded and left the shop.

…

Mycroft returned to the familiar pastry shop again the next day. He was determined to enjoy at least one piece of pie that week. He waited in line, but turned when he heard a woman speak behind him.

"Excuse me," she spoke. It was the woman who had bumped into him the previous day. "Look, I feel horrible about what happened yesterday, so please, allow me to buy for you today."

"Thank you, but no," Mycroft replied warily. "Just forget about yesterday. It was no big deal."

"Forget about yesterday?" she asked with a smile. "Then consider it a random act of kindness."

Before Mycroft could object, the woman passed him in line and ordered two cherry pies from the cashier. She handed him the plate with the pie, which Mycroft took quickly. He wasn't too eager to be accepting it from this woman, but it was the first sweet he would eat in several weeks.

He sat in the corner of the shop with his pie. Unexpectedly, the woman sat across from him. "Can I help you?" Mycroft asked.

"I- I just, um… I wanted to make up for yesterday," she said. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and she quickly added, "I mean, yesterday didn't happen, so, you look like you needed company." She smiled hopefully.

"Very well," Mycroft sighed. He shoveled pie into his mouth. He observed her closely. She was a writer, obvious from her fingertips and posture. She had low self-esteem, judging from her loose clothing and her high shirt collar. "I am Mycroft Holmes."

"Oh! I didn't introduce myself. I'm sorry, my name is Amelia. It's nice to meet you, Mycroft," Amelia grinned and ate part of her pie. "You've got quite a unique name, don't you?"

"Yes, Mother was very fond of 'unique' names," Mycroft answered. He was almost finished with is dessert.

Amelia seemed to notice him finishing his food, and said nervously, "I… Um, do you want to meet again?"

"Hm?" Mycroft asked. "I don't think so," he answered as nicely as he could. Amelia gave a disappointed nod and Mycroft silently left the shop.

…

Mycroft walked unannounced into 221B Bakers Street. Sherlock looked at him as if he were a pest, but didn't lower his violin from his shoulder. He turned his back on his brother and continued to play what Mycroft assumed was an original piece.

"Brother, why don't you put away that instrument and we can _bond together,"_ Mycroft said sarcastically.

"How's your diet going, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked over the sound of his violin. His brother frowned with annoyance.

"_Just put that thing away. I need to speak to you," _Mycroft snapped. He sunk into the sofa, twiddling with his umbrella.

"What do you want?" Sherlock set his violin down and sat in his arm chair. He interlocked his fingers and watched Mycroft closely.

"I have a job for you," Mycroft said. John walked into the room and paused when he saw Mycroft, but then he took his spot in his own chair. "I need you to investigate a murder."

"I'm busy," Sherlock said immediately. He was observing the horse hair on his violin bow.

"Brother, this is of national importance," Mycroft said, frustrated. "Don't brush this off just to inconvenience me. Besides, it _should _interest you. He was found in a coal mine with no clear cause of death. He was very high up in the government, so we have it investigate what happened to him."

"No," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock," John looked to his flatmate with raised eyebrows. "You're not on a case right now."

Sherlock sent him a short glare. "Fine, I'll do it," he growled.

"Good," Mycroft cocked his head and smiled. "I'll send you the information tomorrow."

"You never answered my question earlier. How's your diet?" Sherlock asked with a mean smile.

"Ha. Ha," Mycroft replied.

"Did you meet someone new?" Sherlock asked with interest. He was deducting Mycroft's clothing and behavior. As much as Mycroft knew of deduction, he could never manage to make himself completely 'undeductable' to Sherlock.

"I've met plenty of people," Mycroft sighed. "The janitor in my office building, a woman who ran into me at a pastry shop-"he stopped midsentence realizing he had just applied fuel to Sherlock's diet tease.

"A woman," Sherlock said with mock interest. He took his brother's sudden end to his speech differently than what Mycroft expected. "Perhaps a _love interest?_"

"No," Mycroft answered. He felt a headache growing as the conversation continued. Sherlock was always so difficult. Mycroft had basically raised him, but Sherlock was always troublesome. "She clumsily ran into me and ruined my pie. That's it."

"I wouldn't expect anymore," Sherlock said carelessly. "You couldn't handle a date with an actual woman."

"Like you could?" Mycroft barked.

"Ha, I've been in a steady relationship for over a year now," Sherlock scoffed. "I don't think you could keep a relationship for more than a day. You probably couldn't start one to begin with."

"Goodbye, Brother," Mycroft said with annoyance. He stood and left the flat.

…

Mycroft paced in his library. His conversation with Sherlock was still bothering him. He could have a relationship if he wanted to. He didn't care about having a relationship. But, for some reason, Mycroft felt like he needed to prove Sherlock wrong.

He sat at his computer and accessed the government's database. It was easy enough to locate the woman he had met in the pastry shop. He dialed her number and waited for her to pick up.  
"Hello?" Amelia answered.

"Ah, hello Amelia," Mycroft said. His voice oozed with charm. "It's Mycroft Holmes, we met in the bakery yesterday. And the day before."

"Oh, hi, Mycroft," Amelia said with confusion.

"Look, I'll get to the point. Would you like to meet me for lunch?"

"Today? Yes, that'd be cool," she said.

"How's four o'clock at the bistro downtown?"

"Sounds great. I guess I'll see you then," Amelia answered. Her smile could be heard over the phone.

"Yes," Mycroft nodded. He ended the call and left to get dressed for his date.

…

Mycroft sat at the clothed table in the bistro. Two candles were lit in between the two placemats. He stood up to greet Amelia when she entered the restaurant. A blue dress- which looked two sizes too big- drooped over her thin figure.

"Hello Amelia," Mycroft smiled as he pushed her chair in for her.

"Hi," she blushed, pushing her brown curls out of her eyes.

Mycroft sat in his chair again. "You look lovely," he smiled. And, surprising to himself, he didn't even force the compliment.

"Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself, but if I may ask, do you always where a suit?" Amelia laughed. Every time she had met him, he was in a suit.

"Basically, yes," he said with a shrug. Amelia smiled at him.

"What do you do for a living?" she asked.

"I work for the government. You?" he asked. For some reason, he was actually interested in what this woman had to say.

"I guess that explains the suit thing. I'm a nurse at the children's hospital up north," she answered.

Mycroft nodded. "Interesting," he said. Amelia wasn't particularly sure what Mycroft was thinking. She found him incredibly hard to read.

"Good evening," a waiter said as he approached the table. "Welcome back, Mycroft."

"I'll just have a water and my usual fettuccini," Mycroft told the young man. He often visited the restaurant for lunch after work, so most of the employees learned to remember him.

"I think I'll have the same," Amelia said. She hadn't taken time to look over the menu yet, but she didn't want to make the waiter wait for her to decide. The young man nodded and left Mycroft and his date alone.

"So… do you have any hobbies?" she asked Mycroft curiously.

"Not really, no. I'm generally kept busy with my work. What do you do to fill _your _spare time?"

"Well, I paint a little. I spend a lot of time at the hospital helping kids," Amelia answered.

"Do you do that out of pity, or do you really care for them?" Mycroft asked. He was genuinely curious.

"What?" she asked, offended. "I do care about them. I care about them very much."

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to insult you," Mycroft apologized. "I didn't mean anything by it. I've met many people who help people just for attention and bragging rights. I see you're different than them," he said smoothly.

Their conversation was put on hold when the waiter returned to the table, carrying two fettuccini plates and waters. "That was rather quick, wasn't it?" Amelia said when the server left.

"Yes, well I'm what they consider a 'high priority costumer,'" Mycroft answered, eating a mouthful of noodles off of his fork. Amelia smiled and twirled noodles onto her own fork.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you, how did you get my number?" she asked.

"The phone book," Mycroft lied with a charming grin.

Mycroft and Amelia finished their date very well. They kept casual conversation going and learned new things about each other. Mycroft was surprised by how much the two had in common. They ended the night with a slight hug and a 'good night.' Mycroft returned home feeling pleased with himself.

…

Mycroft strolled into the pastry shop again. His diet was basically nonexistent. He sat in his usual corner with a blueberry pie and ate with satisfaction. He was focused on his dessert until he saw Amelia out of the corner of his eye. He sat straighter in his seat and smiled as she sat across from him.

"Hello, Amelia," he greeted.

"Mycroft, how many times have I told you, you can call me Amy," she laughed. The two had been on several dates. They were very comfortable with each other by now.

"Right, sorry," he apologized with a grin. "How's the muffin?" Mycroft asked, pointing his fork at her plate.

"Really good. Here, try some," she pinched a clump off of the muffin and dropped it lightly in Mycroft's open mouth. He blushed and looked away. Since their first date, Amy had grown less shy. She could flirt easily, but she still was a little shy when she was flirted with.

"You're right," Mycroft said after he swallowed the bread. "It is pretty good."

"Yeah, but I really shouldn't be eating it. I'm on a diet," Amy said with a slightly red face.

"Ha, me too," Mycroft chuckled. He shoveled another forkful of pie into his mouth. "But what does it matter?" he shrugged.

"Yeah. Why not enjoy life to its fullest?" Amy smiled as she chewed on the muffin.

"Besides," Mycroft's hand paused and he looked Amy straight in the eyes. "You don't need to be on a diet. You're perfect the way you are."

Amy blushed brightly and looked down at the table with nervous laughter. She cleared her throat and looked up again. "So, uh, do you want do go on another date soon?" she asked, clear and straight to the point.

"Yeah," Mycroft nodded. He chewed his pie slowly, thinking. "How about Thursday?"

"That sounds great," Amy grinned. "I'm off on Thursday."

"So am I," Mycroft lied. He planned to take the day off, though.

Amy looked down at her pink watch. "Oh, sorry, looks like I have to go," she said regretfully. "My lunch hour is almost up. I'll see you on Thursday, then?"

"Yes. I'll pick you up at six," Mycroft nodded. He leaned across the table and exchanged a small hug. "See you then," he said as she left.

When Mycroft had first started dating Amy, it had just been to prove a point, but lately, he thought about her all the time. No matter what he did, he couldn't get her out of his mind. He felt nervous when he was around her. Mycroft had a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that he… had _feelings _for her. He cared about Amelia very much.

…

Mycroft knocked on Amy's door at six o'clock on the dot. He waited patiently for her to open the door. After a moment of waiting, the door opened to reveal Amy in a blue dress. It was tighter than most of her other baggy clothes. Mycroft gave her a large smile, which she mirrored.

"You look gorgeous," he struggled to say. He felt awkward sharing the compliment since he actually thought it to be true. Mycroft was a very charming man, but he had trouble with his emotions. That was one of the reasons he refused to make emotional attachments to other people.

"Thank you," Amy said. She pulled a thin jacket over her shoulders and stepped out of her apartment, closing the door behind her.

"Ready?" Mycroft asked, offering her his elbow.

"Well aren't you quite the gentleman," she teased, wrapping her arms around his right one. They walked out of the apartment building and paused while Mycroft opened his umbrella for her. "So where are we going?" Amy asked as she sat in the passenger seat in Mycroft's car.

"It's a secret," he grinned. He started the car and pulled into the street. After about ten minutes, he pulled up a large driveway, which lead to a giant mansion. He parked the car by the front steps and opened the door for Amy.

Amy looked frightened at the house. "Is this your home?" she asked nervously.

Mycroft realized what she was thinking. "Yes, but don't worry. I'm just going to make you a home-cooked meal," he assured.

Amy nodded and smiled. "Alright," she climbed out of the car and took Mycroft's hand. Together, they entered the house and then the huge kitchen.

"Mycroft…" Amy said, sitting up on the brown counter. Mycroft looked up from where he was washing his hands. "So, you're rich?"

"That's a very _obvious _question, Amy," he tsked. He and his brother both shared the same detest for obvious question.

"Right. Okay, why didn't you tell me you were rich?" she rephrased.

Mycroft chuckled. "I assumed you knew. You know, working for the government, being a 'top priority customer' everywhere I go, the nice car, all the name brand suits," he shrugged.

"I can't believe I missed that!" Amy laughed and shook her head. Now that she knew, it was very obvious. "Anyway, what are you making for dinner?" she asked curiously.

"Pot pie," Mycroft answered. He dropped an apron around his neck and tied it in the back. "That okay?"

"Hm? Yeah. Jeez, I haven't had pot pie since I was a little girl," she said like she was reminiscing.

Mycroft began to cut carrots into small slices. Amy watched him from her spot on the counter. Mycroft was so focused on cutting the vegetables in front of him, that he never realized Amy had left the ledge a few feet from him until he felt her arms wrap around his waist. She laid her head between his shoulder blades, since she was too short to reach any higher.

Mycroft smiled and set down his knife, turning to envelope Amy in an affectionate hug. He was unsure if that was what he should do, but he felt like it was. Amy pulled back a few inches and gazed up at him. Her head cocked to one side and her eyes closed, all while she leaned closer to him.

Mycroft swallowed nervously but mimicked her actions. It wasn't his first time kissing someone, but it was the first time he had this feeling in his chest. His heart tightened at the sight of Amy's puckered lips. He slowly leaned down until their lips met softly and pulled back quickly.

They both paused and looked at each other, but then mutually leaned in to kiss again. Mycroft's head felt like it would explode. He could smell the sweet scent of Amy's coconut shampoo and taste her warm breath. His hand found its way up to her hair, holding her head carefully, but becoming tangled in the wild curls. Amy deepened the kiss and Mycroft willingly kissed back. His second hand found its way to Amy's waist, holding her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and giggled without breaking the kiss. This was certainly the first time he felt like _this._ He felt a wave of love and longing go through him. His heart of ice had finally shattered.

…

Mycroft tapped his foot anxiously as he waited outside Amy's door. They've been dating for a year now, and he felt that it was time to make the commitment. He patted his coat pocket, checking to make sure the ring was still there.

Amy greeted him like normal. They exchanged a kiss and Mycroft complimented her dress. It fit well to her body. Mycroft had managed to get her to overcome her self-confidence issues. "So where are we going tonight?" Amy asked casually on the way to the car.

"The Italian restaurant," Mycroft smiled. The place of their first date, and hopefully, their engagement.

"Cool," she grinned. She watched Mycroft's face as he drove the few blocks to the restaurant. "Sweetie, are you okay?" Amy asked.

"Hmm? Yes, I'm fine," he answered quickly.

"You're sweating and you look pale," she continued on, sounding worried.

"Amy," Mycroft said, breaking his stare on the road for a second. He placed his hand on hers. "I'm okay. I'm perfect."

Amy laughed. Mycroft pulled into the parking lot and shut down the car. He hurried around to open Amy's door for her, helping her out. They walked arm-in-arm together.

"Welcome back, Mr. Holmes, Miss Amelia," the host bowed his head slightly when they entered.

"Our regular table, please, Theo," Mycroft told him. He nodded and collected two menus, and then led the couple to the table they always sat at.

"So Jenifer did the cutest thing at work today," Amy said when they were seated. Mycroft smiled and nodded, not really listening. Amy often told him stories about work and the kids she played with, and he often did pay close attention, but today he had something else on his mind.

His foot tapped nervously, but he kept the smile on his face, nodding every few seconds as Amy talked. How would he ask her? Would he do the whole get-on-one-knee thing? Maybe he should just hand her the ring and ask while seated. What if she said no? Hell, _she said yes? _

"Mycroft," Amy's voice drew her boyfriend out of his thoughts. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course I am," Mycroft nodded.

Amy sighed. "What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" she asked quietly.

"No, Amy, I just have a lot on my mind," he said, holding her hand in both of his. He watched her painted nails curl around his skin. Her hand was warm in his. "I'm sorry."

"If you need to talk about it," she said gently, "I'm always here."

"I know," Mycroft smiled at her. He kissed Amy's hand and she mimicked his smile.

Silence passed.

"Amy…" Mycroft said hesitantly. He pulled his hands under the table, removing the ring box from his pocket and spinning it in his fingers. "I have something I want to ask you," he stared at the table but risked a glance up at her face.

"What is it?" she asked, slightly concerned.

Mycroft pushed his chair back slightly and knelt on the ground in front of his girlfriend. He watched her sea colored eyes for emotion as she realized what was about to happen. He swallowed thickly and produced the open ring box. Amy's face was in a mask of shock as the diamonds shined brightly near her hand, in her reach.

"Amelia," he said cautiously, "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He watched her closely.

Her eyes filled with tears, and Mycroft's stomach fell with dread until she grinned ear to ear. "Yes," Amy answered, barely above a whisper. "Yes!"

Mycroft grinned and slipped the expensive ring onto his fiancé's finger. She said again, "A thousand times, yes!" and pulled him to his feet, hugging him tightly. Her lips met his in a soft, yet passionate kiss. They both stopped in realization when someone cleared their throat loudly in the restaurant. The engaged couple looked around, embarrassed, at the applauding dinner-goers. Theodor, the host, stood awkwardly with their food.

"Sorry," Mycroft said after he cleared his throat. He and Amy (who was blushing immensely) sat down quickly, but held hands over the table. They were both practically glowing with happiness.

…

"Do I look okay?" Mycroft asked anxiously, adjusting his tie. Sherlock looked at him and smirked. "Never mind," he grunted. He leaned close to his mirror and patted down a stray hair.

"You look great," Molly smiled. Her arm was wrapped around Sherlock's waist. She wore a purple bridesmaid's dress. "But don't look so nervous," she joked.

"Yeah, thanks," he muttered with annoyance. In less than an hour he would be married. How could he not be nervous?

"I've got to go help out Amy," Molly said. She stood on her toes–in high heels no less– and kissed Sherlock briefly. "I'll see you at the ceremony."

"Bye," Sherlock said as she left. He turned back to his brother. "Mycroft you're fine, other than your tie being crooked."

Mycroft looked anxiously in the mirror to see a very straight tie. "Brother, _please _be serious," he snapped. Sherlock chuckled.

"It's going to be fine," Sherlock reassured, adjusting his bow tie. "Don't worry about it," he said. Mycroft felt certain he said it just to get on his nerves.

"So what exactly do I do as 'best man'?" Sherlock asked. He knew what his job was, but he also knew it would comfort Mycroft to explain the job.

"Just stand up there and look pretty," Mycroft answered. Sherlock raised his eyebrows. He hadn't expected that.

Mycroft glanced at the clock. "We've got to get out there. Only fifteen minutes until we get started," he said nervously.

"Alright, let's go," Sherlock sighed. He was trying the best he could to be kind to his brother, but he was finding it partially difficult. Well, he found it more than _partially _difficult. He was filled to the brim with insults and jokes to make fun of Mycroft, but he stifled the urge to tease as well as he could.

…

Mycroft rocked on his feet under the altar. He watched the wooden doors straight ahead of him, waiting for his soon-to-be wife to emerge. The benches surrounding the path to the door were crammed with people. Most of them were family and friends of Amy's, but there was a good amount of people attending for Mycroft.

He jerked to attention and stood straighter when he heard the queue for Amy to start walking down the aisle. The wedding guests all turned to watch as the large doors opened and Amy slowly started to walk towards the altar. On her arm was her gray-haired father.

Mycroft's breath caught in his throat when he took in his fiancé's appearance. The white silky fabric caught her slim figure in just the right places, making her look stunning. However, to Mycroft, stunning was an insult for how beautiful she looked. No words could describe what he felt.

He glanced to both his sides, one side with Sherlock, John Watson, and some of Mycroft's colleagues in tuxes, and on the other side were Molly and the rest of Amy's friends dressed in the purple bridesmaid's gowns. Mycroft couldn't help but loosen his now-super-tight collar.

Amy and her father reached the altar. The old man gave Mycroft his daughter's hand, smiled, and walked away. Mycroft and Amy grinned at each other as they held hands.

The priest (which Mycroft agreed to due to Amy's religion, he's as atheist as they come) did the wedding introduction. He explained in what seemed a very long speech what marriage is, what it means, blah blah blah.

"Who has the rings?" he asked the quiet room. Sherlock stepped forward and pulled the rings from his pocket, handing them to Mycroft and Amy to hold.

"Mycroft Holmes," the priest said loudly. Mycroft took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was next. "Do you take Amelia Jones to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death does part?"

"I do," Mycroft nodded. He could see tears forming in Amy's eyes.

The priest repeated the vows to Amy, who then replied, "I do." Tears of joy dripped down her face, making Mycroft chuckle softly.

He instructed Mycroft and Amy to exchange rings. They slipped them onto each other's fingers and waited for the next words. "You," the priest started, "may now kiss the bride."

The church erupted with applaud as Mycroft scooped Amy into his arms, kissing her happily. He and his new wife left the room, never ending the kiss.

…

Mycroft and Amy were practically glued at the hands. They were holding tightly to each other just about all of the night.  
"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes," Molly said as she and Sherlock approached the newlyweds.

"Thank you, Mol!" Amy embraced Molly. She was ecstatic.

"I'll be honest," Sherlock said quietly. "I never thought this would happen. I didn't know you were capable of 'emotional attachments'," he masked his harsh words with a happy and congratulate voice.

"Yes, well you wouldn't," Mycroft replied with the same happy tone. There was no way he was going to let his brother ruin this for him.

"Amy, would you like to dance?" he asked his wife when she pulled away from Molly.

"Yeah," Amy grinned, taking his offered hand. Mycroft led her to the dance floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and hers around his neck. They swayed to the soft music slowly. They laughed and talked in each other's ears.

"I'm so happy for them," Molly said to her boyfriend.

"Yeah, I am, too," Sherlock nodded. It was true. He was surprised at how his brother was actually happy for once in his life.

"Let's dance, too?" Molly said, looking to Sherlock with hope. Sherlock smiled and took her in his arms, swaying in a similar manner to the newlyweds.

…

"You ready?" Amy asked with excitement.

"I'm ready," Mycroft assured. Together, they cut into their six-tiered cake and removed a large slice. Their eyes reeled at all the camera flashes sent their way. Amy scraped cake onto a plastic for and shoved it into her husband's mouth.

"Hey!" he laughed around the cake. He picked up his fork and forced a chunk of cake through her lips, too.

They kissed and smiled against each other's lips. They both tasted like chocolate. As the party started to end, the couple made their way to the dance floor once more. As they swayed together, Amy said, "Today's the beginning of something great."

"Yes," Mycroft agreed. "We're going to live happily and grow old together," he grinned.

"We'll reach 100. That's our goal," she nodded as if she just made a deal.

"If you say so," Mycroft laughed, nuzzling his face in her soft hair. "100 it is."

…

Mycroft entered the living room and plopped on the couch next to his wife. He untied his tie and tossed it aside.

"Welcome home," she laid her head on her husband's shoulder and stretched her legs over his, hugging him from the side. Mycroft smiled and kissed the top of her head. "How was work?"

"Horrible," he sighed. "Important information was leaked on the internet. It was a mess to fix."

"I guess being the government can be tough, huh?" Amy teased. Mycroft looked at her. She was acting odd. Her voice and posture were completely different from her regular self.

"What's wrong?" he asked her with concern. He eyed her suspiciously, looking for signs of illness or discomfort.

"Nothing," she blushed.

"Amy," Mycroft said firmly.

Amy sighed and laughed into his chest. "I forgot how easily you read me," she said. Mycroft waited for more, but it didn't come.

"I've known you for three years, one and a half of those we've been married. I can read you like a book," he kissed Amy on the tip of her nose. "Now, what's on your mind?"

She looked up at him and took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant," she said. Her eyes watched Mycroft closely, gauging for emotion.

"…you're…" Mycroft looked at his wife, surprised. She nodded. Mycroft grinned widely and hugged her close. "We're going to be parents," he chuckled in her ear. He felt extremely happy.

Amy gave a sigh of relief at Mycroft's reaction. She had been worried how he would take it. "I love you, My," she smiled.

"I love you, too."

…

Mycroft drove anxiously. One hand was on the steering wheel, while his other hand was being held tightly by his wife. Amy breathed heavily, focusing on lessening her pain. Her long nails were digging into his hand, but he didn't mind. She was about to have their daughter.

"We're almost there," he murmured softly. Amy nodded and gasped as another contraction hit her. Mycroft stopped the car as he reached the hospital door. He got out quickly and helped his pregnant wife out carefully. He walked slowly with her to the entrance, where a noticing nurse brought them a wheelchair.

"My wife's having a baby," he said to the hospital receptionist. She nodded and called in another nurse, who started to push Amy to the maternity ward.

"Mycroft!"

Mycroft turned to see his younger brother and his wife watching him.

"We got here as soon as we heard," Molly said. Mycroft turned to see Amy being wheeled through a set of double doors.

"I… I have to go," he said fretfully.

Sherlock nodded. "Good luck," he replied genuinely.

Mycroft rushed through the doors and hurried along next to Amy. "Don't leave me," she huffed when he held her hand.

"I'll be here the whole time," he assured. Amy nodded and squeezed his hand against her pain.

…

"She… she's beautiful," Mycroft whispered. He was holding his daughter for the first time. The tiny baby squirmed in his arms, but didn't cry. "She's perfect," he grinned back at his tired wife lying in the hospital bed.

"Let me hold her," Amy stretched her hands out and Mycroft carefully handed over the child. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"What are we going to name her?" he asked. His eyes shined with every word.

"Emily?" Amy suggested. "That was my grandmother's name."

"Emily it is, then," Mycroft beamed. He held his daughter's tiny hand between his index finger and thumb. Amy rocked her softly, sending her into a light sleep. Emily had hardly cried at all since she had been born.

"She's so sweet," Amy grinned up at her husband. He nodded in agreement. The couple looked up when the hospital room door opened. Sherlock and Molly entered.

"Oh my god!" Molly rushed to her best friend's side and hugged her, being careful not to wake Emily. "She's beautiful!" she said, watching the baby closely.

Sherlock stood awkwardly by the end of the bed. He didn't mention how much the child looked like a large potato to him. "Congratulations," he grunted to Mycroft.

"Thank you, Sherlock," Mycroft said.

"What's her name?" Molly asked Amy.

"Emily," she and Mycroft answered at the same time.

…

"Wake up! Wake up!" Mycroft was pulled out of his sleep by his daughter's high-pitched yelling. "It's Christmas! Wake up!" she jumped up and down on the bed.

"Emily," Mycroft groaned. "Please stop jumping." The five year old obeyed and sat on the mattress instead.

"Get up, daddy! It's present time! You too Mummy!"

"It's six o'clock on a Saturday, Em," Amy laughed tiredly. Mycroft sighed and left the bed. He picked up Emily and started to leave the room.

"I guess we'll be downstairs," he told his wife before leaving. Amy laughed and crawled out from under her blankets as well.

"Look how much stuff Santa brought me!" Emily yelled, pointing at the mountain of presents under and around the Christmas tree. "Can I open them? Can I?"

"Go ahead," Mycroft smiled. He sat next to Amy on the couch, handing her a cup of tea. He sipped from his own as Emily ripped the first present's wrapping paper to shreds.

"Wow!" Emily looked at her parents. She was glowing. "It's the new dollhouse that I wanted!"

"I guess Santa got your letter than, huh?" Amy said. She grinned at Mycroft.

Emily started shredding her next present and Mycroft pulled a small box out from under the sofa cushion he was sitting on. "Here's your gift," he smiled.

"Thank you, My," she kissed his cheek and carefully unwrapped the box. She lifted the lid and gasped. "Wow…" she said softly as she stared at the diamond necklace.

"Let me put it on," he removed the silver necklace and hooked it around Amy's neck. He pulled her messy hair out from under the necklace. She kissed him as a way to say 'thanks.'

"Ewww!" Emily squealed. Her parents looked at her and laughed.

…

"No. NO! This can't be right!" Mycroft yelled at the doctor in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes. There's not anything else we can do," he said gently. "The wreck caused her severe injuries that just can't be fixed."

"No…" Mycroft whimpered. He looked desperately at the doctor. "How long?"

"My guess is a few hours. Maybe a day, but she won't be waking up. I'm truly sorry," he apologized. Mycroft sunk to the ground, leaning his back against the hospital wall. He hid his head in his hands and felt a dry sob catch in his throat.

Amy had just gone to the grocery store. She was just going to get milk. How could she have gotten in a car wreck? How could she be dying? "It's not fair," he whispered. He felt tears forming in his eyes. Mycroft stood up and entered his wife's hospital room. He sat next to her bed.

A tube was protruding from her mouth, giving her oxygen. It was the only thing keeping her alive. He held her cold hand in his, resting his forehead on it. "Why? Amy, you can't go. You just can't!" he said, tears streaming down his face. "Please," he pleaded. He knew it was no use.

"Mycroft."

Mycroft didn't look up. He knew who it was by the voice. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Mycroft," Sherlock said quietly. "I brought Emily. She's waiting in the hallway."

Mycroft looked up at his brother. "What am I going to do?" he asked weakly. "They say she won't be alive for more than a day."

"I don't know, but you have to explain it to Emily. She needs to know what's happening." Mycroft nodded and wiped his tears away. He took a deep breath and Sherlock left the room, sending Emily in to her father and comatose mother.

"Daddy…" the six year old said. She walked to him and he pulled her in his lap, holding her close. "What's wrong with Mummy?" she asked in a small voice. She looked at the tube sticking out of her mouth worriedly.

"Em," Mycroft said, trying to control his voice. "Mummy's sick. She won't be waking up," he took another deep breath and watched the understanding and sorrow grow on his daughter's face. "She… well she's going to pass away."

"Pass away?" Emily asked in confusion.

"She's going to die," he tried to say as gently as he could. He had to blink away his tears. Emily's eyes started to water. She had an understanding of what death was. She looked to her mother and slid off of Mycroft's lap.

"Mum," she said. She picked up Amy's unmoving hand and tugged at it. "Mummy, you need to wake up. Wake up mummy. Wake up!" she cried.

Mycroft looked to the door where Sherlock was standing. He entered the room and pulled Emily away from her mother. "Emily, let's go outside for a little bit. We can come back in a while," Sherlock said softly. He held Emily's hand and escorted her out of the room, making Mycroft sigh with relief. He couldn't handle it right now. He would help Emily say her goodbyes later, but he needed a moment to himself.

"Amy," he said in a weak voice. "Why are you doing this? Please, don't die on me," he begged. Amy lied unmoving on the bed. "It's not fair!"

Mycroft's head fell in his crossed arms and he let out a heart wrenching sob. He had opened himself up. He allowed himself to love her, and she was going to leave him. If he hadn't fallen in love none of this would have happened. Mycroft couldn't help but cry. His heart felt like it had been torn in half and stomped on.

He sobbed for what felt like hours. When he brought his crying to an end, his eyes burned and his face was puffy. He cleaned himself up as much as he could and went into the hall, looking for Emily. She sat on a bench next to her Uncle and looked like she had been crying as well.

"Come here," Mycroft beckoned to her. She slowly walked up to him and he enveloped her in a tight hug. She wept softly into his shoulder. "We have to say goodbye to Mummy," he said, his throat catching.

"I don't want to," Emily cried.

"Emily, we have to," Mycroft said gently. His own tears were falling again. He carried his daughter back to Amy's hospital bed. "We aren't going to see her anymore, so we have to tell her goodbye."

Emily agreed after a long minute of silence. "Mummy," she said as she cried. "I don't want you to be leaving. I want you to stay with us, but Daddy said I have to say goodbye. So… I love you Mummy," she whispered. "I love you and I don't want you to go."

Mycroft's heart hurt at his daughter's words. He was both glad and upset that Emily understood what was happening. He laid his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"Can I be done?" Emily asked. Her sobs were growing.

"Yeah, sweetie. You can," he answered. She left for the hallway again. It pained her too much to see her mother in her condition.

"Guess it's my turn, huh?" Mycroft said quietly. He held Amy's hand again. He stroked her hair softly. "I don't know what to say. I don't want you to die. I want to grow old with you. I… Before I met you, I didn't care about anyone. I hated the idea of being attached to someone else.

"And then I met you. You came plowing into me at that stupid bakery," he laughed as tear rolled off his face. "I asked you out to prove a point… but I fell in love. Stupid thing to do, isn't it? But I couldn't help it. You were so beautiful and smart and caring…"

Mycroft took a deep breath. "Why did I allow myself to love you?" he asked bitterly. He then added with a softer tone, "But I don't regret it. I don't regret it one bit." He watched his wife's chest rise and fall from the help of the machine.

"I love you, Amelia. Emily loves you," he cried. "And now you're leaving, but I will always, _always _love you." Mycroft leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. He had only just pulled back when her heart monitor gave out a long _beep _and went flat.

"No, not yet, not yet, Amy," he sobbed against her hand. "Just a little while longer, please. Please!"

He was pushed aside by a nurse. Another nurse and a doctor crowded around her body. He was made to leave the room when they declared her dead.

…

Mycroft sat in the church and listened as Molly gave a speech in front of Amy's coffin. He held Emily's hand, who was crying into his arm.

"Amy was my best friend," Molly said as tears poured down her face. "I met her when she and Mycroft started dating. She was the nicest and most humble woman I knew. She and I were so alike, that I couldn't help but love her. She was the perfect friend."

When her speech was over, everyone looked to Mycroft expectantly. He rose to his feet and slowly made his way to the front of the room. He looked out at the crowd of black clothes and grieving faces. "Amy is… Amy _was _a great woman. I loved her. I never cared about anyone until I met her. I used to always say _'Caring is not an advantage,' _but, when I met her, it was.

"She made me happy in ways that I didn't know were possible," Mycroft said quietly. He blinked away tears. "I never knew that loving someone could be a good thing until I… fell in love with her…"

He looked over the faces in the church. "I… I can't do this. I'm sorry," he said. He returned to his seat and held Emily close to him. The funeral service continued. Amy's friends and family went up and spoke about her. The good things, the bad things, the funny things. Mycroft felt like none of it was real. He was expecting–he was _hoping__–_that he would wake u and it would all just be a nightmare. But the wake up never came.

He silently cried as he watched his wife's casket lower into the soft ground. The headstone was large and read the words '_Amelia Holmes. Loving Wife, Mother, and Friend.' _He and Emily carefully tossed a bouquet of roses onto the wooden box which Amy would be kept in for the rest of time.

After the burial service ended, people slowly trickled away until Mycroft and his daughter were the last ones. "Emily, why don't you go catch up with your Aunt and Uncle?" he asked her quietly.

"Okay," she said sadly. She walked away with hunched shoulders.

Mycroft set a hand on the gravestone. The cold stone felt nice on his warm skin. "Amy, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Remember? We were going to live to be 100 together. You promised," he shook his head sadly and turned away from the grave.

…

_**Three Months Later**_

Mycroft still ached for his wife. He and Emily missed her very much. He knew that he would never rid himself of that feeling. There was a hallow piece in his chest that would never be filled. Despite him missing her, though, Mycroft managed to live on. He had a daughter to take care of. There wasn't any way that he would abandon or stop loving her.

Emily seemed to have adjusted well after her mother died. She could still laugh and play with her friends. She made Mycroft proud. They would get passed Amy's death together. They would keep her memory alive, but move on. Neither of them would ever lose the love they kept for Amelia Holmes.


End file.
